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Continued from page 13 If Lawrence Gray is sore, is Monte Blue?
If Al Jolson is poor, is Irene Rich? If Peggy Joyce is old, is Loretta Young ?
If Sue Carol gave a party, would Louise Dresser?
If Tom Mix is high, is Edmund Lowe?
Helen Daily.
259 Main Street,
Stamford, Connecticut.
Her Views Expressed.
I do wish to extend my appreciation and gratitude to M. F. F., whose letter was published in the September Picture Play, for her surprisingly accurate analysis of Rudolph Valentino. She has adequately expressed my own reason for the admiration and friendship I felt for him, as a man and actor. The last paragraph, especially, told me why I saw him again and again in the same picture. He never palled, but grew more beautiful to me, and by that I do not mean physical beauty.
Mrs. R. E. Scholz.
Boonton, New Jersey.
Agrees with Gene.
I certainly agree with Gene Charteris, who, in September Picture Play, stated that the years have made no change for the better in Richard Barthelmess. How could they? Dick could not possibly get any better in his acting. He has long ago reached the pinnacle of success, and has managed to stay at dizzy heights in spite of some poor pictures and disconcerting -notoriety. Three cheers for Dick ! Give us some more acting like the dual characters in "Wheel of Chance."
Lillian Vernier.
St. Louis, Missouri.
It's Beyond Him!
Am I peeved? Well, not much! I wonder if there ever was an actor in the world besides Rudolph Valentino? Some one is continually howling about his superbeing, superacting, et cetera. I believe in giving due credit to every one. But why all this ballyhooing? It's far beyond me to comprehend. I admit I'm perfectly dumb. But, as I was saying, he was a fine actor. He worked hard, and deserved all that was given him. Yes, he deserved more, though nothing was done to help him while he was with us, at a time he was in need of us most. Why all the flowers now?
Rudolph Valentino is a memoiy. Let's wake up and give some praise to the little "dark angels" who are working like Trojans to make a name in the screen world. One little forget-me-not now is far better than a whole carload of flowers after stars are gone.
Billy Holtsberry. Flamenco Signal Station, Fort Amador, Canal Zone.
A He-man Face.
There are stars of all kinds in Hollywood— high, low, and handsome — but this particular one, just recently elevated to stardom, has attracted my admiration more than any other for a long time. Forceful, dominant, rugged, and all man.
Not Bull Montana by all means, Nor the gun toter, Tom Mix;
It couldn't be Rin-Tin-Tin, you know, In fact, nor Richard Dix.
But, leaving the rhyme unfinished, let's finish what we started in the first place. When it comes to furnishing a real, man
What the Fans Think
sized face for a close-up, there is no one with a countenance more typical of masculine supremacy than Victor McLaglen.
And, so far, McLaglen has been very fortunate. In all the pictures in which he has participated, his role was "the pick of the bushel." And, with the dawning of a brilliant future, I'm sure the measure will not dwindle down to a peck. Assuredly no Apollo, this McLaglen ; but, as Atlas, he would qualify — first-class.
John Poda.
312 Sumner Street, Akron, Ohio.
Good-by Forever.
The talking pictures will revolutionize the motion-picture industry. One year and the silent drama will be silent forever. The peace and quiet of pictures will soon be a thing of the past. The modern public demands action and life. The talking picture will give it to them. My opinion, as a fan for fifteen years, is that it is the greatest step toward improvement that the screen has yet made. The sound effects of storms, fights, wrecks, et cetera, will greatly emphasize the entertainment value of pictures.
The possibilities of talking pictures are unlimited. The silent pictures reached perfection and were found wanting. The greatest advantage of the talking pictures will be to the small villages with one theater. They will hear the original score to the picture, as rendered on Broadway. They will see famous musical comedies, operas, and plays. They will see and hear celebrities of all professions. It is impossible to think of what this means to the small towns. It means more than the newspapers and radios combined. They will see and hear things at a small price that, without the aid of the talking pictures, would have always remained a dream never to come true.
Yes, it's a marvelous invention, new and undeveloped as yet, it is true. The hundreds who protest against it now would do so against any innovation. They are unable to realize that nothing is stationary, that progress will bring perfection.
Let us consider this radical change from the actor's angle. We have heard rumors that 'the change will affect hundreds of popular stars in Hollywood. I do not believe this is true. We all know if a star has a voice that is not adaptable to the sound pictures, that some one who has a suitable voice can be substituted.
It makes me very happy to know the day of the talking picture is here. Only recently, while visiting in a small town, I had to suffer with Norma Talmadge while the piano played "Moonbeams Kiss Her For Me." Can you imagine Camille leaving this earth with such a melody? Neither can I ! And to think that such conditions will soon be a thing of the past !
Let us fans bid the silent drama a sad good-by.
J. E. Bailey. 16 Rossonian Apartments, Houston, Texas.
Who Says They're Great?
What a perverted conception most people have of the word great, and how carelessly they brandish it in expressing their personal enthusiasms !
The word should be reserved for those screen artists whose work is of that caliber which entitles them :o be compared to the great of other professions — the Drew, Barrymore, Bernhardt Duse of the stage ; the Edison and Steinmetz of scientific repute ; the Farrar, Melba, and Patti of grand opera. The measure of greatness
in any profession is based on achievement — certainly not sex appeal !
There will never be another screen personality to supplant that of Mary Pickford. Had Wallace Reid lived, his consummate performance in "Peter Ibbetson" was indicative of the artistry he would have achieved. Charlie Chaplin is an outstanding genius. Pola Negri is a sensitive woman capable of feeling exactly what she thinks she feels, and registering that emotion effectively. Gloria Swanson in "Sadie Thompson" was a supreme artist. Olga Baclanova is the epitome of intense, vital life, and has given us performances that shall not soon be forgotten. There are two or three others, including Valentino and Lillian Gish, whose work has had a significant effect on a tremendous number of people.
And there you are. There are scores and scores of others whose names are prominent, whose work is excellent, and who are widely beloved.
No one gives me more pleasure than Buddy Rogers, whose youthful vitality is a tonic, and whose personality is altogether pleasing. Greta Garbo is vital and interesting, which is also true of John Gilbert. Norma Talmadge is a beautiful screen personality. Nick Stuart is another for whom I cherish an enthusiastic regard. Richard Barthelmess has never made a picture that I have not made it a point to see.
And what does it mean, after all? The major portion of the motion-picture public, the fans, regard the movies as the ideal recreation. The movie theaters are crowded nightly by workaday people who want to be entertained, who want just the right measure of sadness and just the right measure of laughter — with a news reel about the current events thrown in to balance things up.
Entertainment — not artistry — is the paramount service of the screen in the scheme of things. But, nevertheless, when you come right down to it — the great people of the screen, as the great of any profession, are those whose performances and achievements cannot be judged by popular standards.
"And so — to bed," as Samuel Pepys might conclude.
What Does It Matter. New York City.
Taking a Lot for Granted.
In my opinion, the film producers are taking a lot for granted when they think the public wants talking pictures. To me, there is nothing more wonderful than silent drama. It is the mechanical talking that takes away the reality from the picture.
When I go to see silent dramas I become so engrossed in the picture that I forget it is only a play. Now they bring in this mechanical talking that makes it impossible to forget you are just in a theater.
All the Vitaphone orchestras sound alike ; the volume is terrific and the expression sadly lacking.
Doesn't Conrad Nagel realize that he should be seen and not heard? He has a lovely voice, but he is not his attractive self when he talks and uses such grimaces in the close-ups.
Won't some one deliver us from the talking pictures?
A Silent-Drama Fan. 4180 Emerald Street, Oakland, California.